An Unusual Day
by BritishIsBetter639
Summary: When a usual girl meets an unusual man. Sherlock in college years. Maybe eventual Sherlock/OC. First story so please no flames and review.
1. The Rubik's Cube

**AN: Hi, I'm back! After much deliberation I've decided to expand my oneshot into a story. I'm going to warn everybody in advanced that I won't be updating as much as I should due to the fact that I have other stories I'm working on and life in general. Anyway please tell me what you think and if you think I should I should delete this and just keep my oneshot or continue with the story. Lots of love BritishIsBetter :)**

**Chapter 1**

John Watson was facing a rarity at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock was doing some experiments at Bart's that he couldn't do in the flat which left John alone with nothing to do. He had already written up the case. The bills had actually been paid and he had gone through every newspaper lying around the flat. John sat in his chair suddenly coming to a somewhat understanding of Sherlock's insanity when he was bored out of his mind.

John stood up determined to find something, anything to preoccupy himself with. He walked around careful not to knock over any of Sherlock's experiments or the towers of newspapers forming in corners of the room. Glancing around the flat something caught his eye situated on Sherlock's desk. It was a Rubik's cube and a rather worn out one at that. The stickers were clinging to their squares and he could barely tell which color was which.

He picked it up and examined it. It didn't look like Sherlock had done anything to make it an experiment. He went to put it down but hesitated. There wasn't anything else to really do and as far as he knew Sherlock had never even touched it. Taking his chances John plopped himself in his chair Rubik's cube in hand and started working on it.

Hours had passed and John wasn't any closer to getting it figured out. He had gotten two sides down and was quite proud until he messes up only getting one side again. He was so concentrated on the frustrating cube he didn't even notice Sherlock walk in the door.

"How's it coming," Sherlock questioned startling John.

"What?"

"Your puzzle," Sherlock clarified.

"Oh," John said a little distracted looking back down at the cube, "not so well. I've forgotten how difficult these things could be."

Sherlock scoffed at this hanging up his coat.

"Well of course you laugh," John said annoyed. He turned over the cube a couple of times. "Maybe if I just…" He made a few more turns only to be disappointed that he had totally destroyed the red side he had completed earlier. "Damn it."

Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes at John's antics as he continued to struggle with the cube.

"Give up?" Sherlock asked.

"Not on your life," John answered more determined than ever. Sherlock smirked at him and made himself comfortable at the kitchen table looking through his microscope.

John examined the cube with a hardened expression before once again trying to crack the puzzle. Unfortunately for him the results were the same as before only this time he had wasted two and a half hours. John groaned in frustration slamming the cube on the side of his chair.

"May I?" Sherlock asked slightly amused at John's frustration.

"Go ahead," he said tossing it.

Sherlock caught it in midair and examined it quickly.

"I've spent over four hours on that bloody thing. I think it's…" John never got to finish his sentence as Sherlock tossed his back the completed cube. John stared at it amazed. "You did that in six seconds."

"Really?" Sherlock said smirking, "I'm getting rusty, used to be able to do it in four."

John's eyes slightly boggled, "Four seconds?"

"Well, four and a half," Sherlock corrected.

Johns shook his head. He should have known. Sherlock was a man of logic and puzzles, not to mention a show off. It would make since that that annoying little cube would be too easy for him.

John stared back down at the cube debating whether or not it was worth it to try again when he noticed something he hadn't before. He was surprised he didn't earlier. On the other hand he had only been focusing on the red and yellow sides. In the center piece of the white side written in sharpie pen where the initials CO. It was a little smudged and faded but there was no denying what the letters were.

"Sherlock," he asked, "this is your puzzle right?"

"Yes, obviously," Sherlock answered not looking up.

"Huh, then who's CO?"

Sherlock froze a moment before gaining his composure.

"No one," he stated a little more tightly than necessary.

"Really?" John questioned; he didn't believe it for a second. "Why would you keep this then?"

"I get bored," Sherlock answered easily. "It's at least a somewhat simulating entertainment."

"You figured this out in six seconds and you said you used to be able to do it in four and a half, that's not simulating for you it's boring. Not to mention the fact that I've never seen you so much as pick it up since I've moved in."

Sherlock didn't say anything and continued to look into the microscope. He however did look slightly uncomfortable in his seat.

"You haven't thrown it out," John continued, "and it's not because you find it entertaining. Something special about it? The only thing that makes this different are the initials."

Sherlock once again didn't say anything.

"If I didn't know you better I'd say you kept this for sentimental reasons," John concluded smiling.

"Well you do know me better John. So, you would know that isn't the case," Sherlock answered rather sharply.

John's smile quickly faded as he saw the expression on Sherlock's face, something he thought we would never see in his life, regret. Sherlock Holmes felt remorse. It was almost too much for John to wrap his head around. Sherlock was obviously trying to cover it up, but John did know him too well. Whoever CO was they were important to Sherlock.

John got up from his chair and slowly walked toward the consulting detective.

"You know Sherlock," he said cautiously, "it's alright to act a little human every now and then."

Sherlock didn't say anything going back to him microscope, his face blank. John sighed placing the Rubik's cube on the table besides Sherlock.

"Can you at least tell me what CO stands for?" John asked.

Sherlock paused never looking up from his microscope.

"Charlotte," he finally answered, "Charlotte O'Connor."

John couldn't help but be a little surprised at Sherlock's answer. Despite wanting asking more questions John decided not to push his luck. Nodding his head he turned to his room leaving Sherlock alone in the kitchen.

Once John was out of sight, Sherlock turned his eyes away from the microscope and to the little cube beside him. He picked it up twirling it in both his hands his gaze finally landing on those two little letters.

"Charlotte O'Connor," he whispered, a sad smile on his lips.

**AN: PLEASE FOR THE SAKE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY IN THIS WORLD REVIEW. Seriously tell me it I should stick to oneshots or not.**


	2. Meeting Charlotte O'Connor

**AN: I'd like to thank everyone who has read/favorited/reviewed/followed this story. I'm going to warn everyone agian that I'm not going to be updating as often as I would like because I have other stories I am working on. I hate being that person but I am.**

**Chapter 2**

A young woman sat alone in the Oxford library waiting for her next class. Having nothing better to do she decided to get started on her history paper, though it wasn't due for a couple of weeks. Her long dark brown hair was tied back in a ponytail out of her brown eyes. Fully focused on her work she barely noticed that her glasses were starting to slip off the end of her nose or the fact that someone had just entered the library.

A young man maybe a year or two older than the woman walked straight toward the table she was working at. He was tall and lanky with a strikingly pale structured face and curly black hair. The most interesting thing about him though were his eyes. A pale blue, they seemed to calculate rather than emit emotion. He seemed to examine everything around him, no judgment, no curiosity, no anything, just pure calculation.

He stopped and stood in front of the young woman for about thirty seconds before saying, "I believe you're in my seat."

The young woman looked up slightly surprised to see another person in the library.

"There are plenty of other seats around here," she said politely.

"You don't seem to understand," he said almost condescending manner, "this is my seat and has been my seat for the past year."

"Well, there are still perfectly adequate seats in this library that you can use until I'm done with this one," she countered turning back to her work as if that ended the conversation, but the young man wasn't giving up without a fight.

"This is the only seat in the library that is far enough to be quiet and has a proper view to see everything. Now, seeing as you aren't waiting for anyone and there isn't anyone else here I suggest you move."

"I am waiting for someone."

"You're lying."

"How do you know that?" By this time the young woman had given up trying to get back to her work and was looking right into the man's eyes.

"You barely noticed that I was three feet in front of you not to mention you are working on a paper that requires a considerable amount of brain work. Strange to be working on something that isn't due for three weeks," he answered almost bored.

She looked surprised now. "How do you know my paper isn't due for three weeks?"

"All the history majors are working on this paper."

"How can you possibly know my major? You don't even know my name."

"Ms. Clara O'Connor."

"Charlotte," she corrected.

"Well, it was a bit of a stab in the dark," he said, slightly frowning. "Statistically speaking Clara is a more common name and all I had to go on was the name on your bag."

Charlotte quickly looked down, she had forgotten that her name was on the side of her bag; C. O'Connor.

"Well, you just seem to know everything about me don't you?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, almost everything."

"Like what?"

The mysterious man gave her a cocky smirk.

"I know you're majoring in history, but considering a field in archeology. I also know that your family is rich, probably in banking or some small branch of government dealing in finances. Your father has recently had an affair which you discovered. You told you're mother the situation and for your efforts you were cut off from your inheritance leaving you estranged from your family. And I know that you have a work ethic which leaves you with no time for a social life or friends."

Charlotte sat there quietly staring at the young man with curiosity, "How could you know all that?"

The tall man continued to smirk.

"It's fairly obvious," he said taking the seat right across from her, "The paper your writing is for an advance history course for majors, therefore history major, easy. The only other book you have is on carbon dating, so carbon dating mixed with history, you're interested in becoming an archeologist."

"I could just be pleasure reading," she suggested.

"Nobody reads text books for pleasure reading," he said as if it was obvious. "Now we get to your watch."

"My watch?"

"Yes, it's old but valuable. Most likely a gift, the engraving on the side says Benet Banking, so gift from a client; most likely your father's, hence rich with ties to banking. It's well-worn meaning you use it constantly but you take care of it. The strap is worn but the clock face is new, time is important to you. However, it hasn't been looked at in a while. The glass is slightly cracked and the time is about thirty seconds off. So, you've been neglecting it, why? It was a gift from your father, so it means you had a disagreement with him. Not a small one a big one, the watch means a lot to you, which leads us to the paper you're writing.

"What about it?"

"You're writing about the state of marriages in England. It's written in a negative light but it's awkward. You have passion about it put you have obviously just taken this stance against it. So, a recent negative view on marriage means you've seen one in trouble, obviously not your own so you're parents. You discovered father cheated on your mother. When you threatened to tell and he threatened to cut you off. You didn't take him seriously and you told you're mother anyway; leaving you estranged and cut off from your father."

"How do you know he cut me off?"

"Your clothes, they're not new they're used. You sold all you new clothes, so you need money but you bag and watch say otherwise. Rich girl going to college, but lacking in money, cut off obvious. You thought that even if your father cut you off your mother would come to your aid. She didn't leaving you estranged from her as well."

"How…?"

"All the dates in your planner where you were planning to meet her have been blocked out which us leaves your work ethic. You always put the due dates a few days before the actual due date for the class so you always get it done early but that's the only thing you planner is filled with. So, you work ethic gets in the way of your social life leaving you completely friendless and not waiting for anyone in the library." He concluded with as cocky smile, "Did I get anything wrong?"

Charlotte sat there gapping at the young man sitting in front of her. After about a whole minute of silence she adjusted her glasses and said, "That was…incredible."

The young man looked somewhat surprised at her reaction, "Really?"

"Really."

"Interesting," he said, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time, "people don't normally say that."

"What do people normally say?" she asked.

"Piss off."

Charlotte allowed a small chuckle to escape her lips. "Well, you were right; my parents run one of the biggest banks in London. Their marriage is in trouble through an affair, I was cut off from my inheritance after I told them I knew, I don't speak to either of them, and I have no social life."

"I got everything right?" he asked somewhat surprised.

"My mother cheated on my father," Charlotte corrected, "she runs the family business."

"Your mother had the affair," he asked clarifying.

"Yes, now can I ask you something?"

"Of course it was the mother," he said chastising himself, "there's always something."

"Excuse me," she said a little loudly bringing him back to earth, "can I ask you something?"

"Depend on what it is."

"Why did you feel the need to examine me?" she asked honestly curious, "Was it to prove you're clever, what?"

The blue eyed man sat there and said as if it were obvious, "Because I was bored."

Charlotte looked at him with a blank expression. Then slowly a half smile appeared on her lips and she shook head, "Well, glad to provide you solid entertainment. Now if you'll excuse me," she said looking down at her watch, "I have to head to class."

"French 204," the young man stated as Charlotte started to put her things away.

"Lucky guess," she said standing up.

"I never guess."

Charlotte eyed him suspiciously but said nothing as she put her bag on her shoulder.

"Well," she said straightening up, "this has been a very interesting experience and for that I gladly surrender my seat."

The dark haired man gave her a half smile, "I'm glad to keep you solidly entertained."

Charlotte smiled back and walked away. After a few paces she stopped herself and turned around.

"I don't believe I caught your name."

The man looked at her as if slightly surprised she asked but gave her his signature smirk and replied, "The name is Sherlock Holmes."

Charlotte smirked back, "Well, it's nice to officially meet you Mr. Holmes."

"Likewise Ms. O'Connor."

And with that Charlotte gave him one last look and walked away allowing a smile grin to escape her lips.

**AN: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! **


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